


When Rich Set A Fire And He...

by GrayCanKindaWriteStuff



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: I cried writing this, Oh boy it's sad, This isn't my au, boyf riends — Freeform, richjake, that credit goes to @smfdr on instagram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 03:03:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11118567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayCanKindaWriteStuff/pseuds/GrayCanKindaWriteStuff
Summary: What on earth did Rich think would happen? Fire? In a residential neighborhood?





	When Rich Set A Fire And He...

**Author's Note:**

> I started this at midnight, so you can see as I get lazier as it gets later. This AU isn't mine, it belongs to @smfdr on Instagram. Go check them out! They're awesome!!!!! Well, anyway, enjoy!! :)

Richard Goranski pulled a single match out of his costume’s back pocket.

 

“I’m so sorry, Jake.You deserve better.” he whispered his last epithets to his best friend, looking up at the star-free, polluted New Jersey night sky above the back garden of Jake’s small suburban home. He didn’t care about his annoying lisp now- This moment was just him and the sky.

From inside Jake’s house, some stupid country song with lyrics like “-Hey girl, you looking fine tonight-” leaked through the not-quite-airtight kitchen window just over Rich’s head. Even with the solemness of what he was about to do hanging in the air like the smog in the ozone above him, Rich couldn't help but smile. Jake hated country music- it obviously must not have been his music choice playing.  
Rich shook the thought out of his head. His semi-inactivated squip was yelling at him, in a mix of Japanese and English, telling him to stop right now- he’ll never be cool if he completely wrecks the house of the most popular guy in school.  
“愚かな少年、y-you can't これを行う!” The aforementioned squip chirped from some long-forgotten location in the back of his head. Rich didn’t care. He looked down at the still-unlit match.  
“Looks like I’m really doing this, huh?” The last remaining bits of smile and color drained from Rich’s face. He struck the match on the sole if his sneaker, and watched it burn for a few seconds. Just before it was going to burn out, he touched it to the side of the house. The old wooden paneled siding of Jake’s house caught aflame almost instantaneously.  
“Goodbye.” he said, and lay down in the garden. He closed his eyes, and waited for the flames to overcome him. He was done.

During this, Jake was scouring his small kitchen, looking for his short best friend.  
“Richard? RICH?” he called out, growing increasingly more concerned with every time he yelled the name out. Jenna had told him that she had seen Rich acting suspiciously crazy earlier, and Jake knew better than anyone what happens when you mix Rich with alcohol there WILL be unpleasant side effects. One time, he got on top of Jake’s car and refused to get down until Jake drove him to a Dairy Queen, and Jake was REALLY not hoping for a reprise of that game. Suddenly, Jake stopped just by the kitchen window.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. He sniffed the air once, twice, three times before finally recognizing the smell- smoke. Something was on fire.

“EVERYONE OUT!” he roared over the obnoxious country song blaring from Brooke’s new stereo.

“OUT! OUT! FIRE!” He screamed.  
Suddenly, there was a mad dash for the door. Everyone was screaming over the radio, which in the newfound chaos had fallen on the floor and was now partially broken, but was still piping out cheery banjo music as if nothing was happening. In the midst of the uproar, Jake took a second to muse that he had never related more to an object in his life.  
“Get out!” He rasped through the smoke now filling the first floor, pushing the last two people out the door. On the sidewalk across the street from Jake’s house, people were congregating, meeting up with their friends, and just generally making sure everyone was ok. He scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar streak of dyed red hair. Suddenly, he caught an anxious-looking Jeremy’s eye. Jake rushed over to him, and began talking at a breakneck pace.

“Have you seen Rich?” Jake asked Jeremy.

“Last time I saw him, he was wandering out in the back garden.” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Have you seen Michael? I can’t find him anywhere.”  
“He was in my downstairs bathroom.” Jake responded. “The….the b-bathroom with a sticky lock…” It was beginning to dawn on him. “Oh my god, he’s still inside!”  
Jeremy inhaled sharply. “Oh my god.” Jeremy’s squip was telling him to play it cool, go get Rich, score some points with Jake, get cooler. “I’ll go get Rich from the back garden. Y-you go save Michael. Please.” Jeremy said, pretending to remain calm. He dashed off to the back garden, thinking about anything- ANYTHING to get his mind off of worrying about Michael. He quickly found Rich, lying in the grass with the burned-out match still in hand, and helped him to his feet.

“C’mon, Rich. We gotta get out of here.” Jeremy said, trying hard to ignore the evidence of arson still in Rich’s hand.

Meanwhile, Jake was racing through his smoky home, trying to find his first-floor bathroom. When he found it, he banged on the door.  
“MICHAEL! MICHAEL MELL! ARE YOU IN THERE?” He shouted.  
He was met with a weak, smoke-succumbed “Yeah.” from Michael. “Help.” He wheezed.  
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you out of here! Don’t worry!” Jake began throwing his body against the door, trying to budge it open.

Unbeknownst to Jake, his home was one of the precious few in his neighborhood with an old, outdated gas tank attached to his water heater. An old, outdated, FLAMMABLE gas tank, that is. The fire had breached the basement by this point, and was inching closer to the literal time bomb every passing second.

Jeremy got Rich to safety with the rest of the partygoers on the other side of the sidewalk, and stood there anxiously waiting as some of the girls gave the also-smoke-succumbed some first aid treatments.  
“God, I hope they’re ok.” He muttered more to himself than anybody else, and started biting his nails until his squip shocked him and told him to stop.

“It’s no use, Jake.” Michael said, defeated. “Go. Leave me here. Save yourself.” Michael buried his head in his hands. “Oh my god, I’m going to die here.” Flames were beginning to creep up the bathroom walls.  
“No! I’m not giving up on you, Michael! We’ll both get out of here alive, Michael! You’ll see!” Jake said, trying to remain optimistic. He gave one final smile, and hit the door with all of his strength. It finally popped open. When Jake saw Michael, his eyes lit up. “Yes! Now let’s get out of here-”

And that’s when the house blew up.

The flames that had been flocking to the heater when they finally hit it, and it exploded faster than popcorn in a microwave, taking the rest of the house- including Jake and Michael- with it. They died before than they had time to register what had happened.

From across the street, all the partygoers watched in a stunned silence. Shock was the first emotion Jeremy registered, and it arrived in the form of a dead silence. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

The match slowly dropped out of Rich’s hand.


End file.
